Breaking the WavesWho is truly worthy to hear the voice of God? History and myth are full of recurring tales of women who have claimed a special connection with God, such as Mary Magdalene or Joan of Arc, women who have borne the enmity of patriarchal theocracy, women perceived as a threat under the pretense of heresy, their condemnation executed with the subtext of a fear of losing that flimsy sense of dominance. In Lars von Trier's Breaking the Waves, Bess McNeill (Emily Watson) is a kind of Calvinist Candide, an innocent devotee of her congregation upon the Isle of Skye, who secretly carries on communications with God, voices and all, as she undergoes a tribulation after a dire fate befalls her new husband, Jan (Stellan Skarsgård).
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Breaking the Waves begins with Bess' proclamation to the elder men of her church that she loves Jan. When prompted by them for her to cite what is it she loves so much about what Jan has to bring to their community, she proclaims their music. Set in the 1970s, the film is broken up into chapters with musical interludes amid gorgeous, augmented landscapes of the locale. The music is appropriate for the time frame, with mix of glam rock titans like T. Rex and Mott the Hoople, as well as Jethro Tull and Leonard Cohen, with a particularly heart-rending addition of David Bowie's "Life on Mars". The music, the costumes, and even the cinematography--intentionally manipulated by transferring from film to video, back to film--gives Breaking the Waves a quality like that of an elusive documentary, a testament chronicling Bess' gospel, her indefatigable love for Jan and her unique brand of martyrdom. When Jan is gravely hurt on the oil rig where he works, Bess blames herself and believes that her prayer to God to bring Jan home resulted in this accident. Logically...rationally, there is no reason for us stable-minded, empirically-grounded modern viewers to lend any credence to such an assumption. However, as we watch Bess "converse" with God, we may begin to wonder. It would be easy to write her off as a religious nut...but in her own private company, she speaks as God with a voice and tone that is far removed from her typical mousy demeanor. No; for Bess, God is a stern figure, but someone who listens to her in almost all cases. And also for Bess, her prayers often get answered, although not always in the fashion she would prefer. Her sense of communion with God is challenged by the realist, Dr. Richardson (Adrian Rawlins), who tries to reach out to Bess not with pills or other impersonal means, but with listening to her, and trying to help her see the world with a healthy clarity. Similarly, her sister-in-law, Dorothy "Dodo" McNeill (Katrin Cartlidge) tries to be a good friend to Bess, but does not entertain her ideas of her unhealthy obsession with Jan, nor her naivete in the face of Jan's inflicted "illness".
After the accident, Jan is almost completely paralyzed, an unfortunate fate not only for Jan, but for his young bride. In Jan's eyes, his virginal bride had known very little about physical love, and by all prognoses, he will never even walk again, let alone consummate his relationship with his wife in the future. With a terrible brain trauma, Breaking the Waves is ambiguous about whether Jan's suggestions to Bess to seek out a lover are the result of his drug-addled mind and injury, or whether it might actually be his efforts to push her toward another man, so that she might not be tied down to a cripple. If this is the case, it is also keeping with the actions of the other main characters of the film--the story deals at its core with good people who want to do good, but sin or make errors of judgment, because they believe they are doing the right thing. Ultimately, even this is but one interpretation of it, since Bess' experiences and her faith suggest that even "sin" is subject to interpretation. Lars von Trier shows off his unfettered talent for presenting a story with such intricate characters, whose actions weave into the lives of the others around them, and where each scene imports significance to other scenes and the greater themes of the film as a whole. And not only do these moments set the tone for the film for the viewer at a subconscious level, but they also carve out from the stony moors of the highlands a tight-knit community, tended by a highly reserved sect of Christianity, and of the surrounding satellites--the oil rig, the hospital, and other locations. Over time, we recognize the same locations, not simply because scenes take place there again, but because there is a sense that this world is real--our world--and Bess' experiences carry greater weight and consequence as a result. Bess' love springs forth without restraint, compared to Dodo, who is cautious that her obsession could be destructive to Bess based on precedent, and Dr. Richardson, who is genuinely convinced that her belief in her prostrations to cure Jan makes her a danger to herself. Bess no longer shows any sense of fear once she has pushed passed her initial apprehensions to fulfill Jan's requests; for Bess, the act of sacrifice is born from her faith that she can truly show her bountiful love to save Jan. The obvious Christ-like metaphor painting Bess as a sacrificial lamb is all the more pronounced at the end of the film. Though regarded as divisive to some, I've always found the conclusion to be not just appropriate but a majestic affirmation.
Recommended for: Fans of a modern tale of love and sacrifice, one that questions who it is that can truly speak for God, and questions how powerful faith can truly be...or should be.
After the accident, Jan is almost completely paralyzed, an unfortunate fate not only for Jan, but for his young bride. In Jan's eyes, his virginal bride had known very little about physical love, and by all prognoses, he will never even walk again, let alone consummate his relationship with his wife in the future. With a terrible brain trauma, Breaking the Waves is ambiguous about whether Jan's suggestions to Bess to seek out a lover are the result of his drug-addled mind and injury, or whether it might actually be his efforts to push her toward another man, so that she might not be tied down to a cripple. If this is the case, it is also keeping with the actions of the other main characters of the film--the story deals at its core with good people who want to do good, but sin or make errors of judgment, because they believe they are doing the right thing. Ultimately, even this is but one interpretation of it, since Bess' experiences and her faith suggest that even "sin" is subject to interpretation. Lars von Trier shows off his unfettered talent for presenting a story with such intricate characters, whose actions weave into the lives of the others around them, and where each scene imports significance to other scenes and the greater themes of the film as a whole. And not only do these moments set the tone for the film for the viewer at a subconscious level, but they also carve out from the stony moors of the highlands a tight-knit community, tended by a highly reserved sect of Christianity, and of the surrounding satellites--the oil rig, the hospital, and other locations. Over time, we recognize the same locations, not simply because scenes take place there again, but because there is a sense that this world is real--our world--and Bess' experiences carry greater weight and consequence as a result. Bess' love springs forth without restraint, compared to Dodo, who is cautious that her obsession could be destructive to Bess based on precedent, and Dr. Richardson, who is genuinely convinced that her belief in her prostrations to cure Jan makes her a danger to herself. Bess no longer shows any sense of fear once she has pushed passed her initial apprehensions to fulfill Jan's requests; for Bess, the act of sacrifice is born from her faith that she can truly show her bountiful love to save Jan. The obvious Christ-like metaphor painting Bess as a sacrificial lamb is all the more pronounced at the end of the film. Though regarded as divisive to some, I've always found the conclusion to be not just appropriate but a majestic affirmation.
Recommended for: Fans of a modern tale of love and sacrifice, one that questions who it is that can truly speak for God, and questions how powerful faith can truly be...or should be.